This morning the cats let me sleep until 5:30 before rousting me out of bed. After giving them eat a bit of Fancy Feast, with Sundance's portion concealing her thyroid medication, I went back to bed. They allowed me another hour to doze but kept wandering in and muttering or crawling up on the bed and walking across me to peer out the windows. It was more like old times.
After Tom and I braved the cold weather to do a bit of shopping, followed by some cleaning -- I found a good cat hair removal gizmo -- I sat down in the living room, found a video on YouTube of a flowing stream accompanied by light classical music. I put that on the TV screen, made myself a cup of half-caff coffee and sat down on the newly de-cat-haired love seat with Sundance. I picked up Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, which I am reading for the third or fourth time, and sat back to relax in the comfort of our new home. After a while, Tom came in, plopped down in the armchair and began reading something on his tablet. It was a very domestic scene.
I enjoy John Berendt's writing but at some point remembered that I have two books on the laptop awaiting completion. I put the story of Jim Williams down on the coffee table and brought in the laptop from the study and looked at what I had.
I spent time proofing and editing Except for His Wings. At this point about half of the book is in its [mostly?] final form. The part I was working on has been pretty well worked over already, and I expect the remaining bits to take longer.
Having been away from the novel for over a month now, I am pleased to say I think it reads well. It is not like my other novels. I don't mean that those don't read well, but I guess that is for readers to decide. Rather I mean that it is not explicitly religious the way the John of the Cross mystery is, although it has a spiritual point; and although it is odd, it is -- at least in my intention -- surreal rather than tongue-in-cheek quirky the way the WhoVille stories are.
And don't get me started on authorial intent!